


Grieving

by EllieStormfound



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Emotional Whump, Grief, Grief/Mourning, Grieving, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, M/M, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Sad Jaskier | Dandelion, Sadness, Talk of dead parents, This Is Sad, Whump, hurt with a bit of comfort but an emphasis on emotional hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:47:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29426226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieStormfound/pseuds/EllieStormfound
Summary: Jaskier is grieving his dead mother and Geralt tries to be there for him
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 11
Kudos: 51





	Grieving

**Author's Note:**

> CW: Talk of dead parents, grieving and mourning, sadness

When Geralt neared the clearing he saw Jaskier rummaging through their bags with his back to him.   
“Getting ready for the feast?” he asked as he dumped the pile of firewood on the ground.

“No,” Jaskier said. Geralt frowned and turned around. Something was off. He had expected to find Jaskier to be busy choosing his outfit for the local spring feast that was dedicated to love and well…something right up Jaskier’s alley, but the bard was uncharacteristically quiet and the colors of his outfit were too dull for the occasion.

And then it hit him - the salty smell of tears.   
“Jaskier?” he said a bit unsure, “what happened?”  
With a sharp intake of breath Jaskier shook his head and said, “Geralt...I’m...everything is fine.”

The witcher went over and eyed him closely. Jaskier was still facing his bags but Geralt could see even from the side that his blue eyes were red and puffy, his cheeks tearstained and he was clutching something in his hands.  
“No, it’s not,” Geralt said quietly.

Jaskier turned his head and looked up at him and even though Geralt could see him trying hard not to, his eyes filled up again. When the first tear spilled over and ran down his cheek, a sob broke free from his chest. 

Geralt had seen Jaskier sad before, he had even seen him cry a few times, but he had never seen him so utterly and desperately desolate and Geralt’s chest felt painfully tight at this sight.

He reached over and squeezed his shoulder and could feel the bobbing from Jaskier’s frantic sobbing. Geralt was at a loss of what to do.  
“Jaskier,” he began, “what happened?”  
“I…” the bard pressed out between sobs, “I’m so dumb, such an idiot.”  
Geralt furrowed his brows and shook his head. Quietly he said, “no, you are not.”

“I am,” Jaskier said, tears still running down his face, “please don’t laugh at me.”  
“I won’t laugh, just tell me what’s wrong.”  
Geralt could see that the knuckles of Jaskier’s fingers were white from how hard he was gripping a...  
“I’m crying over a damn sock.”  
Geralt looked closer at what Jaskier was clutching in his hand and it looked indeed like a sock, an old black woolen sock.  
“Why are you crying over a sock?” he asked calmly. 

He wasn’t sure what to do. No one in Kaer Morhen had taught him how to console a crying friend, but he had the feeling that getting him to talk was at least the right direction.  
“It’s…” another wave of sobs interrupted Jaskier before he could continue, “it finally wore through.”  
Geralt was sure that this was not actually about the hole in the sock.

“Why…,” Geralt didn’t know how to word the question because he didn’t want it to sound like he was teasing, “why is this sock so important?”  
He felt Jaskier taking deep breaths and exhaling slowly, trying to calm down.

A minute later he turned his head to Geralt and he could see teardrops caught in his lashes.  
With a hoarse voice the bard said, “I know how stupid that sounds….”  
And when he didn’t continue Geralt asked softly, “what?”  
“This belonged to my mother,” Jaskier whispered hoarsely. 

Geralt drew his eyebrows together in concentration. And a moment later he remembered.   
“Your mother died when you were younger…” he said.  
Jaskier nodded and with the back of his hand wiped tears from his eyes.

“When I decided to travel as a bard, I wanted to take something from her with me, something small and maybe useful? I remembered that she loved to wear these ridiculous socks in the winter and I took a pair.” Gently he rubbed his thumb over the soft woolen fabric.

“I wore it from time to time,” he continues, sniffing a bit, “but over the years the socks wore thin. And now,” he said, voice thick with emotions again, “this one has a hole and I can’t…” He stopped and his shoulders began to bobb as a new wave of sobs rose up in him. Geralt turned Jaskier to face him and wrapped his arms tightly around his friend. 

“It’s okay,” he whispered in the soft brown curls.

“No,” Jaskier sobbed, “it’s not. It’s just a stupid sock and I’m so stupid.”  
Geralt had begun to rub circles on his back.  
“You are not stupid and this is not stupid,” he said.

“My mother died 16 years ago,” Jaskier sobbed, “why am I still like this?”  
Geralt wasn’t sure what to say. So he tucked Jaskier a bit closer.  
“These fucking socks are one of the last things I have of her, a thing she has touched with her own hands.”

He was still sobbing again and was clutching at Geralt’s shirt, “there will never be any more things that she will touch. Everything rots away and I am left behind with nothing.”   
Geralt was pressing his bard to his chest as if he was trying to keep him together as the grief and sadness waved through him. They stood like this for a long while.

“I even forgot how she smelled,” Jaskier whispered hoarsely.

When the sobbing subsided and Geralt could feel tension leaving Jaskier’s body he gripped his shoulders and took a careful step back. Jaskier let his head hang low and wasn’t looking at the witcher but the sobbing had stopped. 

“Let’s lay down,” Geralt said and steered them to their bedrolls. They lay down facing each other and Geralt pressed a water bottle in Jaskier’s hands. “Drink something.”  
Jaskier did as he was asked and after that Geralt wrapped his arms once more around his friend and pulled him in an embrace.

“Tell me about your mother,” Geralt said after a while.  
“What do you want to know?” Jaskier asked hoarsely.  
“A good memory you have of her.”  
Jaskier was silent for a moment before he began.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Find me on tumblr [EllieStormfound](https://elliestormfound.tumblr.com/)


End file.
